


Tough Stuff

by secondrobin



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-23 20:43:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10726869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/secondrobin/pseuds/secondrobin
Summary: "Oh, shit," Jason breathed out, and that was when Tim actually started to feel afraid. If Jason Todd was actually sounding worried about him, then something was seriously wrong.





	Tough Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> My first published Batman fic! Not much of a plot here; this was largely an exercise in writing batboy interactions before I dive into a multi-chapter fic I'm outlining. Not 100% satisfied with the ending, but I’ve been working on it long enough that I’m just gonna leave it at this and hope people like it. 
> 
> Written as gen, but could be read as Tim/Jay if you want.

It was supposed to just be another patrol. But it always was, wasn’t it? It was just another patrol, it was just a fight, it was nothing until one knife or one bullet or one bomb made it everything.

Tim laid on the ground, trying to evaluate the damage. It would be easier if he could just focus. Or open his eyes. Or feel anything. He tried to go down his body, taking a painful amount of time to do a mental examination of each body part.

Head: aching, had taken a hit, potential concussion. Neck: hurt, exact injury undetermined. Shoulder: dislocated. Arms: scraped. Chest… something was wet on his chest. Something stung on his chest, but distantly, a pain he could only make himself aware of if he focused on it. Some distant part of his training shot up a red flag, trying to remind him that that was very bad.

A soft thud as someone dropped down next to him. Tim tried to open his eyes, groaned inwardly when he couldn’t.

"Damn, Red Robin, that's gotta sting." Jason's light voice sounded from above him, and Tim opened his mouth to reply. He could've sworn he said something, but Jason's voice came again a moment later, a hint of concern. "Red? Say something, c’mon."

Tim heard movement, accompanied immediately by fingers prodding gently at his chest. "Oh, shit," Jason breathed out, and that was when Tim actually started to feel afraid. If Jason Todd was actually sounding worried about him, then something was seriously wrong.

“This is Red Hood,” Jason’s voice sounded a moment later. Tim tried to muster the energy to reply that he knew who he was, he wasn’t that out of it. “I’m with T—Red Robin, 13th and Main, in the alley. He’s…” Jason let out a shaky breath. “We need to get him home now.”

The click of Jason’s helmet disengaging sounded above him, and Tim finally managed to pry his eyes open. Jason looked down at him, chunk of white hair falling in his eyes, and Tim—unfortunately—knew Jason well enough to realize that the annoyance on his face was masking concern. “Hood,” Tim managed to get out after a moment.

“Jesus,” Jason exhaled, visibly relaxing. Not as much as Tim would’ve liked. “Yeah, hey, I’m here. Alright, I don’t know what the fuck happened to you, champ, but it’s...” He paused, debating tact versus truth. “It’s really bad.” Truth won out, then. “Looks like you were shot and then pushed off the building, and frankly, I’m not entirely sure how you’re alive right now. But I don’t want to risk moving you yet. B should be here with the car soon and we’ll get you loaded up and taken home, alright?”

Tim tried to respond again, but the one word he had managed to utter had apparently taken all of his energy. He started to let his eyes close again.

“Hey.” Jason flicked his cheek. “Don’t do that. Focus in on me, alright? Don’t close your eyes. Look at me. Nightwing will kill me if you die on my watch.” His light tone was back, now, but distinctly more forced than before. Tim really, really did not like that.

“How…” Tim choked out. Coughed—oh, hell, coughing was a mistake. He felt like his ribs were stabbing his lungs with each cough. “… bad is it?”

“Hood!” Dick’s voice rang out before Jason could answer. Heavy footsteps, fast, running. “Where is he, how bad is…” Dick trailed off as Tim came into view. “Were you—did you just find him like this, or—”

“I didn’t do this, if that’s what you’re implying,” Jason snapped back. 

“That’s not what I meant, Hood.”

“This didn’t happen while I was here, then. I just found him like this, I heard yelling and then I…” Jason swallowed. “I didn’t—I was worried that anything I could do would make it worse.”

Dick kneeled next to them, frowning. Tim tried to smile at him as he came into view, but he was pretty sure it just came out as a grimace. “Was he stabbed?”

Jason shook his head. “Shot. Once in the torso, once in the leg. And then pushed off a fucking building, it looks like. Red Hood, confirm?”

“It was a pretty low roof,” Tim croaked out defensively.

Jason frowned, looking him over again. “It looks like they missed all the major organs, but he definitely has some broken ribs and I’m sure there’s internal bleeding. At least one leg is broken, and I think he has a concussion. What the hell is this kid made of?”

“He’s a Robin,” Dick said quietly. “We’re made of pretty tough stuff, I guess.”

“Not all of us,” Jason said with a harsh smirk. Dick opened his mouth, admonishment clear on his face before the alley was illuminated by headlights. Tim closed his eyes against the glare, allowing himself to relax a little as Bruce’s familiar footsteps sounded on the pavement.

There was a brief moment of hushed conversation that Tim couldn’t understand before he was being picked up in strong, familiar arms and—  
Pain. Awful pain, radiating through every inch of his body until it was all he could think about, until he was vaguely aware that someone was crying and that it was probably him, until he started wishing desperately that he’d pass out already. Dick’s voice sounded distantly, probably trying to offer some comfort as Bruce moved him to the back seat of the Batmobile.

“I’m sorry,” he managed to mutter against Bruce’s chest.

“Shh. Relax, Red Robin. You’re going to be alright.”

Bruce wouldn’t lie. Bruce wouldn’t lie, and if Bruce said he would be alright he would be, so Tim finally allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

\-----

“… concerned over the comm.”

“Yeah, I knew if the kid died on my watch everyone would think I did it.”

A snort. “The kid is, like, a year younger than you.” A small pause. “And nobody would think that.”

“That’s a fucking lie and you know it, Dickiebird. I don’t have the best history with him, do I?”

“That’s in the past,” the voice—Dick’s voice, Tim slowly managed to place—insisted. “You’re not…”

“I’m not crazy anymore?”

“I wasn’t going to say that, Jay.” Dick’s voice sounded tired, now, the weary voice of someone preparing for a conversation they’ve had a hundred times before. “You’re my brother, and—”

“Tim’s awake,” Jason interrupted, and Tim took a moment to wonder how long Jason had been aware of that before opening his eyes.

“Tim! Hey. Good morning.” Dick smiled a little, walking over to his hospital bed. Tim blinked, looking around.

“Where are we?”

“Gotham General.”

Tim grimaced. “That bad?”

“Yeah.” Dick smiled at him, worry showing through in his eyes. “It’s good that Jay found you.”

“Yeah,” Jason grinned from next to the door, “We’re about filled to capacity with dead birds around here.”

“Jason.” Dick’s big brother voice was out, now, but it just made Jason grin wider. Tim glanced over at Jason, unable to fight back a smile, and they both had to stifle laughter as they made eye contact. Dick groaned. “I’m glad neither of you are attempting to murder the other anymore, but now I’m starting to worry that you two getting along will be the death of me.”

“We’re not getting along,” Jason protested without any real force, “That’s slander, Dick. Damn, maybe I should’ve left Tim in the alley.”

“If you had,” Tim said seriously, “I would’ve kicked your ass as soon as I came back to life.”

Jason snorted. “You sound awfully confident in your eventual resurrection.”

“The revival rate for dead Robins is 100% so far,” Tim grinned, “I’m not gonna break a streak like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> http://second--robin.tumblr.com


End file.
